Revenge is Sweet- Part 1 of 2
by kittn
Summary: A familiar face returns to fulfill an old promise.


All the characters besides Riley and Dillan belong to their respective companies.  I just borrowed them for the story.  
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Revenge is Sweet  


      
    The sun reflected off the water as dawn crept up on Malibu and the Sloan household.  Mark wandered into the kitchen whistling a tune as he went.  He was eager to see his son; he hadn't had a chance to talk to Steve after he got home last night, which was unusual for the two.  He started breakfast and waited for his son to wake up.  
    Steve stirred in his bed at the smell of the coffee.  "Oh, no," he thought.  "Do I really have to get up?"  Steve was sore all over; last night had been terrible.  How would he ever hide it from his father?  He slowly got out of bed, but no matter how slowly he moved he remained in pain.  He gathered the things he'd need for the shower as he headed toward the bathroom, groaning all the way.    
    As he stared at the person in the mirror he thought, "Thank God for those vests!"  Steve stepped into the shower and let the hot water soothe him as the horrible night played over and over in his mind.  
_    "Captain, I think we should get out of here," Steve said for the millionth time that night.  They had walked into an alleyway where they were supposed to meet a contact three hours before.  It was rainy and windy and Steve was ready to go home.  
    "Forget it, Sloan.  You know how Mitch is; he always shows up when you least expect him," was the Captain Newman's reply.  
    "Maybe he should try showing up on time for once," Steve muttered to himself, not daring to allow the Captain to hear him.  This was definitely not feeling like a normal info drop; where was this dude?  All Steve's instincts were kicking in, but he couldn't leave the Captain there.  
    At long last they saw a figure approaching.  "Mitch?" inquired Captain Newman as he began to get the money for the payoff out of his pocket. "Is that you?  Where have you been ... we've been waiting for hours-" He was cut off by the sound of gunshots, but where were they coming from?  It sounded like it came from in front of him, but how could it? He wasn't hurt!  "What the heck...  Oh, no!  Steve!"  
    Then he saw what he feared most.  Steve was lying on the ground with several holes visible in his shirt.  His quick reflexes had caused him to jump in front of the Captain before the shots could reach him.  He wasn't responsive to hearing his name, no matter how loud and how many times he repeated it.  At last Captain Newman remembered the gunman.  It was too late; he had made a clean getaway.  All that had been seen of him was his evil grin and dark brown eyes.  
    "What happened?" asked Steve as he finally decided to join the land of the conscious.  There was a sigh of relief as he helped Steve to his feet, slowly and painfully.  "I knew I should've listened to Sloan; he's always right," he thought as Steve ripped off the remains of his shirt. There was no point in trying to unbutton it; he was just going to throw it out anyway.  "I won't even say I told you so," Steve said with a smile as he revealed the vest he was wearing underneath.    
    "Sloan, you saved my life just now," he said as Steve tried desperately not to show the pain from the impact on his face.    
    "No problem, Captain.  At least I knew I would've survived it," Steve replied.  His efforts to be Mr. Macho were slowly fading and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide the pain in his eyes.    
    "Come on, Steve.  Let's take you to see Jesse."    
    "What?  No way am I going to Community General.  You know my father will flip if he knows what happened.  I will **not** go!"  His arguments made sense, but he was still outranked by the Captain.  He settled for a compromise: Jesse would meet them in the parking lot and give him a little examination off-the-record just in case his father got nosy and decided to do a little check up on Steve while he wasn't there.  Little did they know what Steve would pull.  
    About a half hour later they arrived at CG and only had to wait a few minutes for Jesse to join them.  After smiling through the whole painful examination and being as strong as he could, he finally convinced Jesse that he was all right.  "Jess, let me go.  My father will wonder what happened if I don't get home soon, and I **really **don't want him to know about this."  
    "All right all right already.  You need to stop being so antsy.  I guess I'm done now; an uncooperative patient certainly makes my job hard! Man, Steve, you should be used to this by now.  You come in here enough to be able to do it yourself," Jesse said.  "Now, if there's no pain around your ribs-"  
    "Which there isn't!" Steve pointed out a little too eagerly.  
    "If there's no pain around your ribs," Jesse repeated, growing suspicious, "then you should be fine.  Take it easy tomorrow and don't do any heavy lifting.  You follow my orders or your father **will **find out, isn't that right, Captain Newman?"  
    "That's right, Jesse.  I cannot tell a lie ... at least to your father," he reassured Jesse.  
    "Gee, thank you so much," Steve said sarcastically.  Then he and the Captain left the parking lot and headed home.  Steve had barely gotten into bed before he fell asleep in pain from the broken ribs and bruises he had from the little run-in.  
_    Steve braced himself for the brave face he'd have to put up for his father, which was the last thing he wanted to do.  He looked once more longingly at the bed and then made his way up the stairs from his apartment to the kitchen.  "This is going to be a long day," he thought to himself as another wave of dizziness washed over him.  He had received a small wound to his arm when he was grazed with a bullet, but he had managed to hide his black and blues as well as the gauze Jesse taped to his arm under his blazer.  He would have waited a few minutes to continue if he hadn't heard his father approaching.  
    "Are you all right?" he asked as he approached his pale-looking son.    
    "Yeah, Dad.  I'm fine.  What's for breakfast?" he asked with a small chuckle at his father's concern.  He winced at his father's back as the chuckle sent pain through his body.  "Can't show Dad, can't show Dad," he chanted over and over again to himself, willing himself not to show anything on his face.  He scarfed down his breakfast, mumbled some excuse about an early meeting, and practically ran out the door to avoid his father's questions about the previous night and sped out of the driveway.  He began to drive a little more slowly as he hit PCH and the bumpy patch of road.  "Ow!  Gotta remember to stop doing that!" he thought to himself.  "Why am I such an idiot?"  
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    Walking into the station was no picnic, either.  As soon as he entered he was greeted with a meeting with the Captain.  Unfortunately, he was informed of the death of his informant, which Amanda had placed at approximately 7:30, half an hour before he was supposed to meet them.  
    "Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked.   
    "Were you up to it last night?" the Captain retorted.  At his silence he answered his own question.  "I thought not.  Now I want you to pick up the autopsy report from Amanda and then go visit the crime scene to investigate a bit."  Whoever this was had started racking up charges as a serial killer.  This was the third informant that was found dead.  
    "Yes, sir," he replied, knowing he was defeated.  "Well, time to put on another act...  I hope I don't run into Dad!"  he thought.  "Why me?" seemed to be the question of the day.  
******************************************************  
    Back at the hospital Steve pulled into the parking lot a few moments after his father.  "Just my luck," he thought.  "I'll just wait 'till he goes inside before I go in."  About five minutes later he stood in front of the door to the Path lab in agony.  "I have to go home!" he thought. "Somebody's gonna notice."  Right on cue Jesse walked up behind him. He noticed the look on Steve's face, but he decided to ignore it when he saw Mark coming down the hall.  He gave Steve an "I'll talk to you later" look before trying to play the part of an innocent man.  
    "Hi, Mark.  How are you today?" Jesse asked in his usual manner.  
    "Just fine," replied a suspicious Mark.  If there was one thing Mark was, it was alert.  He noted the exchange between the friends but decided to wait to see what it was about.  
    "Steve, were you looking for Amanda?" Jesse asked.  
    "Yes, I was.  Why?"  
    "I just saw her in the lounge.  Come on, I need to see her, too."  The two walked down the hall together and pushed the button for the elevator.    
    "Steve, what's wrong?"  
    "Nothing, Jess.  I'm fine."  
    "No, you're not.  Some of Amanda's patients look better than you do." To prove his point, Jesse poked Steve gently in the ribs.  If looks could kill, Jesse would have been dead and buried at that moment.  "See what I mean?"  
    "I'm just a little sore, Jess.  You know those vests don't protect you from the force of the impact, just the blood.  I'll be fine, really.  Now, would you like to hear about the case I've been working on?"  Steve was really fishing around for anything and everything to say that would change the subject.  He didn't feel like arguing with his friend and definitely not about this.  He still hadn't totally convinced himself not to have himself checked out.  He was beginning to get dizzy again and it was all he could do not to fall into the chair when he reached the lounge.  
    "Whoa there, Cowboy.  You look like you got run over by the Midnight Special," she joked, adding in a more serious tone, "Are you OK?"  
    "Sure, I'm fine, Amanda.  Did you finish the autopsy on Mitch?"  asked Steve out loud.  In his head he asked, "Why does everyone keep asking that?  Do I really look that bad?"  
    "Yes, I did.  It's just about exactly the same as the others," Amanda said, referring to the other two informants who had been murdered in the last month while headed to a drop site.  She wished she knew what was wrong with Steve.  "Jesse told me about your little run-in with an armed man.  Why isn't your father flipping out?  Didn't he have to come sign you out last night?"  When both men looked at the floor Amanda had an idea about what was up.  "You didn't tell him, did you?  How will you get around the medical records?  He works here and he can pull them whenever he wants!  Are you crazy?"    
    "Amanda, have you ever heard of a parking lot?" Jesse asked with mischief in his voice.  
    "You didn't...  You couldn't...  You did, didn't you?  You two _are _crazy.  For the record, I had no part in this."  
    "Fine.  As far as we're concerned, you're just an innocent bystander. As for Jesse, I'll just tell the truth:  it was the parking lot or nothing. Who could argue with that?  Given my escape record, I think no one will have a hard time believing that, not even Dad if, God forbid, he finds out."  
    "So you're definitely not telling him?" Jesse asked, more of a statement than a question.  He received an answer anyway: "No."  
    Steve was really feeling worse by then, but he couldn't tell them. They would just run and tell his father, and that was the last thing he wanted.  He never liked telling his father he was sick, ever since he was little.  This time was no exception.  Why did he have to have doctors for friends?  He didn't even like the fact he had to tell anyone, but he had no choice.  So now he was going to grin and bear it.   
    "...he was shot several times in the abdomen and once in the heart and thrown in the dumpster," Amanda concluded, but everything she said fell on deaf ears.    
    "Steve...  earth to Steve.  The mothership has landed," Jesse teased as he tried to get Steve's attention.  He was a million miles away in thought and needed to get some sleep; last night was a rough one.  
    "Jess, I'm not deaf.  What do you want?"  
    "Amanda was just explaining the autopsy report to you and you were completely spacing out on her.  Did you get any sleep last night?"  
    "Yes, I did."  
    "How much?"  
    "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that."  
    "That's what I thought.  I want you to go home and rest right now. You need to sleep sometime, and that time is now.  Go!!!"  
    "I can't go home, Jesse, I'm working.  Amanda, just let me bring the report back to Captain Newman; I'll be able to figure it out on my own. I see enough of these on a daily basis.  I'll see you guys for dinner.  Bye!"      Steve left abruptly and walked slowly for as long as he could before he bolted for the bathroom.  "Great morning for Western omelets, wasn't it?"  He let his breakfast be washed away as he made sure the coast was clear and headed for the nearest exit.  
    Steve was headed for the station in his pickup when his cell phone went off.  He pulled over and waited for the next ring before he answered.  "Sloan here...  Uh-huh...  Sure...  Jess, I'll try...  There's only so much I can do...  Listen, I gotta go.  I'll talk to you later."  Click! Steve hung up the phone on his best friend as the dizziness and nausea began to overtake him once more.  He barely made it to the station in one piece, but when he entered it was a little too quiet for his taste.  He walked slowly to his office and was just about to flop on his desk chair when he heard "He's a Jolly Good Fellow" being sung by several of his coworkers.  "Great, just what I need.  Singing by tone-deaf police over a headache.  This day is just too much!"  Steve knew better than to try to get them out, and he was just going to try to stand and thank them when he knew he needed to find a bathroom.  He ran out of the room and barely made it before he began to vomit once more.  Unfortunately, Captain Newman had followed him to the bathroom to see why he was in such a rush.    
    "Sloan!  Sloan, what are you doing in there?  This is a fine way to respond when someone tries to thank you for saving their life!"  
    Steve tried to get out a response to this but he was having trouble breathing and could hardly remain standing.  The Captain walked in on him as he was sliding down to the floor in an effort to calm his aching... well, his aching _everything._  "What's the matter with you, Sloan?  Get up before the Captain sees you and makes you go to the hospital."  This little pep-talk to himself was not working, and before he could try to get up he was spotted.    
    "Sloan, what are you doing down there?  Are you all right?"_    
    _"Yes, Sir.  I'm fine."  
    "Then get up off that floor."  
    "I can't, Sir."  Steve's stomach chose that exact moment to play gymnast and do somersaults, resulting in further spillage into the toilet. Of course, Steve didn't want Capt. Newman to see this, so he turned away as far as he could and locked the door behind him.  To his dismay, he was a little late; his plan had already been foiled.  
    "Sloan, you are going to pay a little visit to your father at the hospital, and I don't want any arguments.  Open that door!  I'm coming in!  Sloan?  Sloan?"  
    All the Captain's arguments had been in vain; Steve wasn't able to hear any of it.  He carefully picked the lock when he didn't get a response, and when he finally entered he gasped at the sight.  There was vomit all over the floor around where Steve lay gasping for air.    
    "Oh, no.  I knew I shouldn't have listened to you.  I'll call your father." Despite his position, Steve tried to argue this.  "No, Steve.  I refuse to let one of my best men be reduced to this.  You **are** going to the hospital, and you will not argue."  
******************************************************  
    "All right, Jesse, what've we got?" asked Amanda as two men came running in to the emergency room with another carried between them.    
    "It's Steve!" Jesse said.  "What are the symptoms?" he asked one of the officers that brought him in.  
    "He's been looking kind of pale all day, like he was about to keel over. Then, all of a sudden, he bolted into the bathroom and was found on the floor with difficulty breathing after vomiting what looked like everything he's ever eaten.  Believe it or not, we had to fight to get him here; he must **really** not want his father to know."  
    "You're right about that one," said a now fully alert Steve.  "Jess, I'm fine.  I just ate something that didn't agree with me.  Let me go!"  
    "Not this time, Steve.  Exam room 1."  Jesse's orders were carried out quickly.  "Now, Steve, what's wrong?"  
    "Nothing, Jess.  I just wanna go home."  
    "No way, Steve.  Now, will you do this the easy way or do I need to call in your father?"  
    "Jess, I'm **FINE!**" said a very annoyed Steve.  
    "Steve, you will not have such an easy time this time around.  You have one more chance.  What's wrong?"  
    "I'm fine, Jess.  I just need a little sleep," he argued.  Steve seemed to be making a lot of bad calls that day, exemplified by his choice to stand at that very moment, which he was unable to do.  He promptly fell back on the bed, grateful for its presence.  
    "Renee, have Dr. Mark Sloan paged," he requested of the nearest nurse.  
    "Right away, Doctor."  
    Moments later Mark came rushing into the room.  "What have have you got, Jesse?"  He asked the question rather calmly until he saw just why he was called in.  Steve was now fighting for breath as well as consciousness, and the harder he tried to breathe the worse the pain became.  "Get him to X-ray NOW!" Mark swiftly barked out orders to the ER staff.  There was no way another minute would be lost when it came to the care of his son.  On the way out the door Mark warned Jesse, "And I'll talk about this with you later."  
******************************************************  
    "Are you sure about that?  He was killed?  He was killed!!  How's that for killing two birds with one stone!!"  A very smug Riley Cavinger gloated over the thought of the death of his least-favorite officer, Steve Sloan. "Now let's see him try to arrest me!!!"  Riley had been arrested three years earlier for the murder of an informant who was about to sell him out to the cops about his very expensive business: he was a major drug dealer who had many, many debts to pay as he was also a compulsive gambler.  He had had three of his best bodyguards commit several burglaries in order for him to pay what was needed.  The little rat was about to run to the police and get him arrested.  "Now how was I supposed to sit back and let that happen?" Riley thought.  He was very bitter when Sloan, who the informant was going to meet, found him and had him convicted.  Now that he had escaped he was determined to get even with all those dirty rats- cops and informants both.  He had decided to get the informants first so he could let the cops sweat a little, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up, so he shot Steve over and over again.  "Now all I have to do is lay low for a while and they'll never figure out who did it.  Then, I can go after whoever I want without much of a problem."  He laughed his bloodcurdling laugh, amused at the thought of Steve's frozen body lying in a morgue somewhere in LA.  "This is gonna be too sweet!" he thought victoriously, staring out the window as the rain began to fall.  
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    "Jesse, what were you thinking?  Why didn't you make him come inside?"  Mark was getting restless.  He hated having to wait for the results of the tests he had run on his son, but at least he would find out what this was all about.  
    "Well," Jesse began nervously, "he refused to do so, and if I couldn't get him to admit he was in pain...  Well, my hands were tied."  
    "Forget this, how did it happen?"  
    "Well, remember that information drop he was supposed to receive?" At Mark's nod, Jesse continued.  "Well, Captain Newman refused to let him leave after standing in the rain for a while, even though Steve was complaining.  By the way, have you noticed how much rain we've been having lately?"  Jesse quickly got back on track when he saw the look Mark was giving him.  His little attempt at skirting the issue definitely was _not_ appreciated.  "Um, well, Steve had the common sense to wear a bulletproof vest, but the Captain refused.  When Steve saw the man at the end of the alley pull a gun, he immediately jumped in front of the Captain to save his life, which, thankfully, happened.  We managed to convince Steve that he needed some sort of medical attention after he was shot at- by the way, 12 bullets hit their mark-, but he refused to set foot inside the hospital.  If it went on the record, you would find out, and he didn't want that.  I examined him in the parking lot.  I saw he was in pain, but I couldn't get him to admit it (you know as well as I do how stubborn he is about hospitals!), so I had to send him home.  He was told not to go to work today, but I guess he did anyway and that's where he collapsed."  Jesse seriously needed to take a breath, having said all that in about ten seconds.  
    "Dr. Sloan, here are the results."  An orderly had come in with the test results and x-rays from Steve, inadvertently saving Jesse from an unknown fate- a lecture at least.  "All right, five of those ribs are broken and two are cracked.  One of the broken ones pierced his left lung.  I need him prepped for OR STAT!!!"  Mark was speaking very quickly to those around him, barking out orders and knowing they would be carried out.  No one was dumb enough to cross the head of internal medicine who, it just so happens, was nearly always right.  Everyone scurried around to prepare Steve for surgery and, after quickly telling Steve what was going on, Mark ran to scrub up for it.  
    "There is no way I'm going to let you do this!" Jesse exclaimed, seeing where Mark was headed.  "That's your son!  You can't operate on him!"  
    "Jesse, I know you're right, but I want to be there to make sure everything that can be done is.  I had them page one of the best from Pulmonology to do the surgery.  I just need to be there."  Mark rushed away from the young resident and prepared to watch his son get patched up yet again.  "Steve," he thought, "you really need to stop meeting staff here like this!"  
******************************************************  
    "Jesse!  Jesse, where's Steve?  Is he OK??  How's Mark doing?" Amanda had heard about Steve coming in through the hospital grapevine, which grew very quickly.  She arrived in the doctor's lounge just moments after Jesse had collapsed onto the couch in frustration.    
    "He's in OR.  He had a punctured lung and five broken ribs.  Mark took over and called in someone to do the surgery.  When am I going to learn to force Steve to do things?"  Jesse was asking no one in particular, but he received a response anyway.  
    "Jesse, I happen to agree with Steve's comment: It was either the parking lot or nothing at all.  You had no choice.  You can't blame yourself for this.  He decided that anonymity was the best way to go. You did your best and there were complications.  How were you supposed to know those ribs were broken just from a preliminary examination?  And Steve probably punctured the lung doing something he shouldn't have been doing anyway.  Jesse Travis, you will not take the fall for this!"  Amanda saw how upset he was; he hated to see Steve hurt, especially since the two were best friends and he had come to love his friend as a brother.    
    "Yeah?" was the bleak response.  "Try telling that to Mark!"  
******************************************************  
    About five hours later Mark entered the lounge where he knew he would find the pair.  He poured himself a cup of coffee and flopped down at the table.  Finally Jesse could no longer take his silence.  
    "So, Mark, how's Steve?"  
    "He's fine.  It was difficult to patch the lung, but he'll be fine.  He's up in recovery now."  Seeing the look on Jesse's face he continued, "Jesse, don't blame yourself.  I'm sorry I blew up at you before.  I know it wasn't your fault and I also know how thick headed my son can be.  I know you did your best.  Hey, checking him out in the parking lot is better than not checking him out at all!  Besides, knowing Steve, he probably did something he knew he shouldn't have done and wound up puncturing that lung.  Don't beat up on yourself.  You did your best, and that was all you could do.  At least you knew the Captain would make him follow your orders- atleast when he was around.  Neither one of you can sit there and babysit him 24 hours a day!  He was going to wind up in here sooner or later, it just happened to be later."  Mark finally finished and Jesse headed out the door.  Amanda followed him and quickly caught up to him.  She wanted to see how Steve was, too, and she needed to corner Jesse for a minute.  
    "See, Jesse, I told you he wouldn't blame you.  By the way, why are you in such a hurry?"  Jesse turned to face Amanda with a mischievous grin.  "What's that grin about?"  
    "I just figured Steve would like to know what the Captain told me over the phone before."  
   "All right, Jesse, out with it!"  Amanda knew he would tell her eventually, but she tended to have a lack of patience when it came to these games of his.  
    "Well, they found another informant.  They're going to send him over to you later.  Same MO as the others.  Shot several times and dumped. It's not much, but at least it's something."  
    "Well, I'm sure he'll be happy to hear there was another murder in LA," Amanda stated, sarcasm dripping from her voice.  
    "That would be true if it hadn't been for the fact that he was found with the gun.  They sent it to balllistics immediately after it was found."  
    "I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that part!" Amanda remarked.  By this time they had reached Steve.  They both stopped talking and started thinking.  They hated seeing him like this, and the memory of last time he was in this position was still fresh in their minds.  He was in a lot better shape than he had been last time, but it still hurt them to see him like this.  They both saw their friend, who had always been a pillar of strength for them, lying totally helpless on a hospital bed.  Both were determined to help him through this time.  He had been there for both of them when they needed him, and now it was their turn to scratch the surface of their debt to them.    
    "Hey, guys.  What's going on?"  Neither one of them realized how long they had been daydreaming until Steve's weak and groggy voice brought them back to reality.  If he hadn't been in so much pain his two friends would have pounced on him in their joy at seeing he was all right.  
    "Steve," said Jesse, "what's the last thing you remember?"  By now Steve had been transferred into a regular room and was wondering how he had landed there.  
    "I was talking to you on the phone in my truck while I was headed to the precinct," Steve replied, still wondering how he got here.  
    "Well, Sloan, you collapsed in the bathroom at work after ridding your stomach of its burden and I found you in there.  I had a few of the guys bring you in," finished Captain Newman.  "How are you feeling?"  
    "Just fine, Captain.  I'm sorry about the bathroom thing.  It won't happen again tomorrow."  
    "You're right it won't happen again, because I don't want to see your face anywhere near the precinct until your father says it's OK to come back to work.  Do you understand, Sloan?"  
    "Yes, Sir."  
    Jesse was still stuck on his earlier statement.  "Just fine?  You have five broken ribs, two cracked ones, and a formerly collapsed lung.  You should be in pain!" remarked Jesse.  
    "No, really?" came the sarcastic remark from where Steve lay.  Steve was now growing tired and stifled a yawn.  
    "Steve, I really think we should go," Amanda said, knowing that Steve needed his sleep.  "Isn't that right, Jesse?"  
    "Yeah...  yeah, I have some rounds I need to finish.  I'll see you later, Steve."  
    "I need to get back to work on this case.  I'll see you around, Sloan," remarked Captain Newman.  
    "See  ya!" he called as everyone but Mark left the room.  
    Steve was slowly drifting off, so his father decided to let the matter of his little escapade drop for the time being.  "But only for the time being," he thought, looking over at his sleeping son.  Mark fell asleep in a chair not long after his son.  
******************************************************  
    "Thank you.  I'm sure he'll be glad to hear the news!" Mark said to whoever was on the other line.  He hung up and began to rummage through the many, many files that lay before him.  He had one of his son's coworkers bring him all of the files in his office, and he had also requested a list of all the convicts who had escaped in the past month who were arrested by Steve.  
    "Aha!  Here it is!!!!"  Mark pulled a file out of the heap that lay in front of him.  "Riley Cavinger.  Do you remember that case?  Three years ago he killed an informant who was about to rat him out."  Who needed reminding?  That was a grim case and Jesse, Mark, and Amanda had helped solve it.  When they figured it out, Steve arrested Riley, and he was none too happy about it.   
    "OK, we know it's Cavinger.  Why don't we just go get him?" Jesse asked, impatient as usual.  He flopped back on the couch in Mark's livingroom, disappointed at the answer he received.   
    "It's not that simple.  You need evidence to make an arrest, and right now we don't have any of that.  Just wait a little while, Jesse.  His time will come."  Mark wasn't too happy at having to wait, either, but he had to keep a level head so Jesse wouldn't go out of control.  
    "This is not going to be easy."  Jesse was thoroughly exaspirated at having to sit there calmly.  
    "Guys, I think I have something you might want to see," Amanda said as she threw down a thick file on the coffee table.  She had the autopsy reports on the victims so far and had made three copies to bring to the beachhouse so they could all look at them and compare them at the same time.  While they pored over these files, Steve lay in the hospital, determined to solve the case in record time and get this guy back for the pain he had caused so many people.  
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